


My world crashed on top of me

by Jonah_Smith_907



Category: Daredevil (TV), Iron Fist (TV), Jessica Jones (TV), Luke Cage (TV), The Defenders (Marvel TV)
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Minor Injuries, Post Midland Circle, also catholic stuff, also really shaky medical stuff, and maybe lawyer things, fluff probably, idek, rated mature just in case, sorry - Freeform, there's also fluff though, this is some heavy shit I guess, which I don't really know much about
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-23
Updated: 2018-07-10
Packaged: 2019-05-13 00:06:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14738339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jonah_Smith_907/pseuds/Jonah_Smith_907
Summary: Shortly after the events of Midland circle. Elektra is dead as it seems, Matt is terrified of facing his friends after like two weeks of recovery in an orphanage, so he doesn't and takes off to Philadelphia. He did not think people would know him there, but they did. Jessica finds out about Matt being alive and goes to take him back home. What she doesn't know is, how anxious he is about ... a lot of things.Loads of emotional h/c, fluff, angst, everything there is tbh. Disclaimers and more tags will be added as the story goes on, I don't know yet where this will end up.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So I've been writing this thing since March or something on paper, so it shouldn't take too long to type it into my laptop and load up the next chapters. I hope you'll enjoy it and leave a comment. 
> 
> If you want to send me prompt or stuff, you can go to my Instagramm account jonah_smith_907_fanfictions  
> Also fanart is always welcome.

They were standing in a circle, trying to decide what to do. Of course they could blow up Midland Circle, but nobody knew at what cost. Nobody knew how many people were still in this building. Though it was pretty clear that nobody in here could possibly be innocent.

Luke looked at the others, arms crossed in front of his chest. “If. We do this. No innocent person will get hurt.” He paused shortly to glance at the others. “Can we all agree to that?”

The rest of the Defenders – plus Claire – nodded in agreement.

For the fraction of a second, Matt hesitated. But then he nodded, too. And it was true. No innocent person was going to die. Because if anything, he certainly wasn't innocent.

_This is going to get you killed. You know that, right?_

They probably wouldn't even miss him that much. Luke had Claire, Danny had Colleen, Jessica had Trish and Foggy had Karen. They'd be fine. And he'd be with Elektra.


	2. Chapter 2

The first time Matt gained consciousness, he was sure that he was dead and that he was in Hell. He had to be. There was no other explanation. Why else would he even be conscious? If he was in Heaven – like that was ever gonna happen – he would just stop being awake. Stop existing altogether. That would be the Paradise for him. Not having to think any more, not having to live with himself any more. 

Alternatively he'd be with Elektra, living a happily ever after. But he knew that was only wish-thinking.

So why else would he have to endure consciousness, if he wasn't in Hell? Or at least in Purgatory. 

He couldn't move, yet his body was burning with pain. Every wheezing breath he took that pulled him out of the darkness of unconsciousness made his chest hurt more and more, up to the point where he had to let out a quiet whimper, a raw little sound from the back of his throat, simply to get at least the tiniest bit of relief.

Though at least the pain sharpened his senses. Not much, it was like there was fog in his brain, but enough so that he was able to feel rough strips of bandages tightly covering his ribcage, sticking to his skin, stabbing tiny hooks into his body with every rise of his chest. 

His sense of touch was better than his sense of sound or smell. It was his only usable sense right now, if he thought about it.

He could feel the slightly sweaty sheet he was lying on, the hard mattress, a draft of cool air against his naked feet, some kind of soft pants covering his legs down to his ankles. There was also some heavy weight next to his right leg. It took him nearly a minute to figure out that it was a person sitting there.

Which was odd, because Matt was pretty sure there wasn't any demon in form of a person in Hell, torturing people. So did that mean Hell was different than described in the bible? Or was he in Purgatory and things were just different there?? 

Or was he even dead? What if he wasn't? Matt didn't know if he wanted that. He didn't know if he was ready for that. He'd never been, so why should that change now? Or ever.

That train of thought was interrupted, when the person – or whoever the hell it was – got up and said: “Get Maggie.” It was a woman, voice held quiet but firm. “Tell her he's awake.”

Who did she mean with 'he'? And who did she mean with 'her'?? God, Matt just wished he could go back to sleep, this was getting too complicated already. And he'd only been awake for like two minutes.

There was the sound of steps on wooden floor, somebody left. Not long after, somebody else entered and the weight returned on the mattress. That wasn't so bad, nothing to be worried about – until all of a sudden there was something on his forehead, heavy, cool, five parts – hand. It was a hand. There was somebody there, putting their hand on Matt's forehead!

At least this solved the mystery of who had been meant with 'he'. It was him. Matt had been meant. Stupid, stupid lawyer, should have been able to put that together!

He tried to move away from the hand, the feeling making him uncomfortable, but groaned instead, suddenly painfully aware that he had no control over his body, whatsoever. 

That realization, in addition with the fact that he still couldn't get his sight back on, was enough to let panic rise in his chest. Without noticing it himself, Matt started panting, sucking in huge gulps of air, but forgetting to exhale, which didn't make it any easier to breath.

“He isn't ready yet”, all at once another female voice softly said.

Then the hand was gone from his head, but grabbed his powerless lower arm instead, squeezing it gently. Then there was a funny itching in the crook of his right arm and shortly after a cool liquid streamed into his vein, within seconds reaching his brain and telling his sore body to relax, to go to sleep.

He didn't fight it.

He'd rather sleep than to be awake and be in the agony of not being able to move or think or get his world on fire back up. Or wrap his head around this whole weird, slightly scary … situation.

Thus he let the calm weightlessness take over his exhausted mind and drifted off into a deep sleep.

 

The next time Matt woke up, he was less hazed and was at least able to keep in a low groan as pain forcefully made its way through the thick veil of sleep. He took a deep breath and eventually managed to open his eyes, a habit he didn't know why he kept it up.

Maybe because he didn't feel like he was blind. Sure, no light perception, but his world on fire made up for that. Except maybe for things like colour, facial expressions and such. But who needed those anyway, right?

“I'm glad to see you're awake now.”, someone suddenly said. It was the same woman from earlier, who had said he wasn't ready yet. Whatever the hell that had meant.

Matt frowned. Of course he didn't know the woman. And yet, there was something about her, something he couldn't put his finger on, that seemed familiar. Something about her scent. The scent of the whole place seemed familiar, if he thought about it. Like something long forgotten from his childhood. Or something he'd like to have forgotten. Then again, he wasn't sure if he should trust his sense of smell yet. 

After all, a building had collapsed on top of him. A skyscraper, to be precise. On top of him. Him an Elektra. No wait, where was she? What had happened to her? Was she here? Was she alive? 

What if she wasn't?

“...”, he tried. So much for talking. He cleared his voice – partly to see if that still worked – and then made another attempt of speaking: “Ele-a?” It was pathetic, not being able to speak properly. Especially as a lawyer. 

“You mean the woman we found with you?” There was a slight jump in the woman's heartbeat, as if she had lied, but Matt was too tired, too nervous to pick up on it. “I'm sorry. She didn't make it.” She sighed. “We buried her in our graveyard.”

The vigilante swallowed hard. This was bad. This was really, really bad. He didn't want to think about this, didn't want to imagine his love's last moments, being crushed to death by stones and steel and – wait. “How did I get … here? Where is here?”

“You are in an orphanage. My name is Maggie.” Ah, the mysterious Maggie. “I am a nun.”

“How'd you find us?” 

Maggie let out a breathy chuckle, but didn't answer the question. Instead, she said: “You were barely alive. About every bone in your body is at least bruised. A few cracked ribs, a few broken ribs, concussion, a few stabs about everywhere.” Suddenly her voice changed into something more serious: “You were on top of her. As if to protect her. That was very brave, you know.” This time her heartbeat was steady. 

“It wasn't enough.” He wasn't able to suppress his emotions any more, grief filling him so sudden, like a punch to the stomach. He just wished he'd be able to move enough to at least wipe away his tears, but soft hands did that for him, making him flinch at the sudden touch.

“Oh, honey. It's okay. I'm sure she's in a better place now.”

Yeah. Maybe. But she wasn't with him, wasn't with Matt, where she belonged. Wasn't alive. Not any more. He'd lost her. Again.

And nothing was going to change that. Not even praying.

Where was God anyway? Now that he was needed so desperately? Had Matt not been a faithful Catholic? Had he not tried everything in his power to help his city, to help the people in it?

Matt _deserved_ a miracle. Just a small one, just once. 

_Please, God, bring her back._

But maybe this was his punishment. Matt lived. While Elektra was buried six feet under, probably still with steel and dragon bone sticking in her body. 

Assuming that's where the gigantic ribcage had its origin.

He could tease Danny with that. He'd get all protective and Luke would grin and Jessica would roll her eyes. Then Matt would smirk, too, and they'd have a laugh, would spend a good time together.

Except Matt wasn't sure he wanted to go back. Foggy would probably be pissed as hell for scaring him like that and so would Karen. He didn't want to face them right now. Not after all … this. And in the end they were better off without him. He had risked so much already with Fisk and Frank and finally The Hand, it was unbelievable that they hadn't been hurt yet, that they were even still alive. 

As for Jessica, Danny, Luke and of course Claire … maybe they'd be pissed, too. Or maybe relieved. He'd kept important things from them after all, had caused trouble. Surely they wouldn't cry after him.

It didn't matter anyway. Nothing mattered any more. Nothing could touch him any more. Because Elektra was still dead. 

Two times they had been fighting in the same war. Once as friends, once as enemies. But both times she had died as his lover, while he had held her in his arms, holding her, kissing her, begging her to come back to him, praying to every God and Angel he knew. 

But nobody had answered. Never had, never would. 

_Be careful of the Murdock boys. They got the devil in 'em._

Because he _was_ the Devil of Hell's Kitchen.

And Heaven didn't want him. Heaven had kicked out the Devil once, it wouldn't accept another one. As for Hell … why get a second Devil? One was enough. That's why he was still here. That's why he still had to endure life. Whatever good was gonna come of that, he wasn't sure.

_Means your work is not yet done._

Father Lantom had said that once. And maybe he was even right. Maybe he had to keep up his nightly activities.

Matt just wasn't sure he was strong enough for that. Though he didn't really have a choice, did he?


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I had to rewatch the end of Defenders for a scene and now I'm crying again and that was so not the plan and oh gawd I should not have watched it again.
> 
> Anyway, have fun reading.

It took Matt roughly two days to figure out why the sound, the smell, the _feeling_ of this orphanage was so familiar to him. So he asked one of the nuns that took care of him, what exactly the name of this place was. 

It hit him like a truck when the pieces finally fell together and formed a full picture. Matt was in Saint Agnes, his old orphanage from when he was ten years old and, as if that wasn't enough already, even his old room.

Or, in other words: he absolutely hated it. He just wanted to get out, or at first get up for that matter, but even he had to admit, that his body wasn't functioning the way it should at the moment. So he somehow had to survive the next few days. Not longer. He was stubborn like that, so he'd make it work. 

Much had changed since he'd last been here. Nuns had left, new ones had taken their places. Maggie for instance, was new.

Maggie. Matt didn't know how to feel about her. She was nice and treated his wounds with great care, sure. 

But there was something about her that seemed … familiar, yet extremely strange and odd. He couldn't quite put his finger on it. Whenever she was in the room, he felt at peace and weirdly unsettled at the same time. And it drove him crazy. He wished she'd leave, but he also wanted her to stay. So naturally he didn't say anything about it. Made polite conversation. Smiled. 

It took him another two days to figure out her secret. And he could have slapped himself for not noticing all those years ago. And now he could feel this cool fury raging inside of him, fighting with the feeling of disappointment and betrayal for the better place. He was _hurt_ and sad and angry and he couldn't bottle this up for much longer. He knew he couldn't. Not this time.

But, even though many things had changed, there were also things that were still exactly the same.

Children were screaming and yelling and laughing and crying and bullying and praying, children cried themselves to sleep, children sometimes peaked into Matt's room to get a look at the weird blind man in their orphanage. Many had their own theories about what had happened to him, or who he was. But there were a few that didn't really care, they just told mean stories about him, probably to scare the others. 

Matt wasn't sure what to think of that. It's not like he cared much about what they said. They were kids, young and stupid. And yet, something about their secret whispers set him off, made him feel like he was back as his ten years old self. It wasn't really much different from then, if he thought about it.

Luckily though, he spent most of his time sleeping or meditating, or – against literally everybody's advice – trying to sit up alone without grimacing, or even standing up. The former worked pretty well after merely a day of being awake properly – the pain was still there, but he was used to it – and the latter one kind of worked as well, but nowhere as good. It took him another three days until he could stand by the window, without feeling like he was about to pass out any second.

It was on one of those days, that something rather … unfortunate happened. Though it's not quite sure for whom. 

The lawyer was standing at the window, leaning on his cane, when suddenly he heard quiet whispers – though for him in normal speaking volume – that were getting closer to his door. It were three kids, sneaking down the hall. One of them was carrying something cold and about fist-sized and kind of edgy – it was a rock. It was a big, hard stone. And Matt was very well aware of the plan that went along with it. 

The door of his room creaked. More whispers. The vigilante turned his head, face unreadable behind his red glasses. “Can I help you?”, he asked, not unfriendly. 

After the moment of shock maybe had passed – possibly his scars were the reason for that, because he didn't like the feeling of his shirts on his sensitive wounds – one of the kids giggled and nodded. “Are you blind?”, she asked. Judging by her voice, she was maybe fifteen years old. Matt nodded. For a few seconds there was silence. Then a boy about the same age spoke up: “Are you Daredevil?”

He didn't know how they'd gotten that idea, but he assumed that's what kids did. Naturally, he smirked devilishly. Then he easily caught the rock that was being thrown at his face and threw it straight back, so that it hit the thrower, an overweight little prick, right in the stomach. Not strong enough to seriously injure him, of course, but nothing more was needed to send the three children running off like the devil himself was behind them. 

Which maybe wasn't even that wrong. 

Years later Matt would meet the kid again who'd thrown that rock. 

 

_”You're that dude from the orphanage. The one who threw a rock at me.”, the twenty-something year old said and pointed at the lawyer._

_Matt raised a brow. “And you're the boy who threw it in the first place.” He gave him a fake-smile and offered him his hand. “Let me introduce myself.” He waited until his hand was taken, then he pulled the other one closer and quietly, but firmly said into his ear: “My name is Matt Murdock. I'm a lawyer at day and a vigilante at night. You hear my name, you walk into the opposite direction. You see me, you walk into the opposite direction.” He paused shortly. “Do you wanna know why?”_

_“Why?” He sounded a little bit nervous, but not scared enough for Matt's taste. Better be safe than sorry._

_“Because if you don't, if you so much as mention me to anyone, I will fuck you up. I will fuck your entire life up, in a way that's never gonna leave you.” Now the younger man was panting, fear rolled off of him in waves. “I could make the whole world believe you committed a crime which you didn't commit. So you better forget you ever met me.” An answer wasn't necessary any more. The smell of fear was promise enough. Matt pulled back, smirked at his opposite and added: “It was very nice meeting you. Now walk away and don't turn around. I'll know if you do.”_

 

At least none of the three kids told the nuns. Otherwise there might have been trouble. Trouble which he didn't need right now. He just had to focus on getting out of here. He could stand and walk and talk and eat all by himself, and his concussion was getting better as well. The headaches were still terrible – they'd set in about three days after the … incident, plus one day after waking up fully. But he was sure they'd vanish after time.

“You're up.”, suddenly Maggie said a little bit surprised and entered the room. “I didn't think you'd be strong enough already.”

“I wanted to feel the sun on my face again.” Again there was this weird feeling about the nun, this feeling he couldn't place. 

He really, really just wanted to leave. He'd been in this room for one and a half weeks, laying in the shadows, alone with his thoughts and fears and theories. Alone with the guilt. 

Alone.

Of course he didn't have a problem with being alone per se. He even enjoyed it, up to some point.

He enjoyed eating alone, he enjoyed working alone. He enjoyed going for walks alone, he also enjoyed fighting alone. But that didn't mean he fancied being lonely. And quite frankly? He was. He didn't like admitting it, especially to himself, but he was lonely.

He liked going out for dinner with Foggy, he liked discussing cases with Foggy. He liked fighting alongside of Jessica, with her defensive attitude, with Danny, who was in so many ways still a child and Luke, who'd always been the anchor of the small group, calm and strong like a rock in a storm.

And now he was alone. Lonely. And broken by the world with nobody by his side, except for a nun he didn't trust.

Not even Claire, with her tough love, who had always stitched him up, so many times.

“Remarkable.” Maggie smiled at him. Then she sat down on Matt's bed, patting the mattress next to her. “However, I believe we have to talk.”

“Yeah.”, the lawyer agreed. Although he didn't know why she wanted to talk now, he was totally up for it. He had a lot on his mind that he wanted to tell her. Or, more accurately, throw at her. “I believe so, too.”

The nun looked at him. Maybe she expected him to join her on the bed, or maybe she just stared at his scars on display – he still wasn't wearing a shirt – but he couldn't be bothered by either of it. He stayed where he was, the only reaction he gave her was a raised brow. 

“You are Daredevil.”, she finally stated as a matter of fact. 

Matt cracked the smallest of smiles with a huff. “Yes.” He let this answer sink in for a second, then he continued coldly: “And you are my mother.” His tight-lipped smirk grew a little wider when he heard her heart jump, her breath hitch. “Surprised?”, he eventually asked. 

“After all these years.” If the scent of salt was anything to go by, Maggie was crying. “I thought you'd forgotten me.”

“Oh, I tried.” He let out a cold chuckle. “I really tried. Of course at first I thought you'd come back, like any normal, good mother would, but then I realized that 'Hey, maybe I'm just not important enough to her'.”

“I thought about coming back.”

“What, all by yourself? Or after my Dad left a message for you the day he died?”

For a few seconds Maggie was quiet. Then she sighed shakily, more tears rolling down her cheeks and said: “I wish I could undo what I did to you. To you and your father. But now we're back together again. God gave us a second chance.” A hopeful smile flashed over her face. Matt mirrored the expression with an unimpressed frown. “We can start over. Maybe this was God's plan after all.”

“Don't you dare bring God into this!”, he hissed and angrily pointed at her, one hand on his hip, as suddenly the anger boiling inside of him spilled over. “This has nothing to do with him. Only with your selfishness and ignorance!” For the first time in his life he had to hold himself back in order not to yell. He lowered his pointing hand and clenched it into a fist. “And even if he did, I'm done playing after His rules, looking for forgiveness and salvation! I'm done following God, because I never get anything in return! I have lost so much!” His voice wavered at that. “So much! And I keep losing! My friends, my battles, my loved one! And of all the people I've lost, you're the last one I'd want back!” He shortly paused to give Maggie the chance to say something, but apparently she was too shocked to form words. 

Thus he continued his rant. “I don't have any feelings left for you. I've used 'em all up. And even if I hadn't, it wouldn't be anything positive, I'm telling you that. Despise maybe. Or disappointment. Or regret, that I cried after you for so many nights. So don't you dare think you can play mother now! Because you threw that chance away a very long time ago.” He took a deep breath to calm himself. “I'm grateful that you took me in and took care of my wounds. I really am. But I will leave this place today and we will probably never meet again. I do not have the desire to reconnect with you. Ever.” Again he paused. After a few seconds he continued, his voice a little softer now: “Maybe I will visit Her grave one day. But please don't approach me.”

Over the past few sentences, Maggie's tears had stopped flowing, had dried on her skin and a sad little smile had appeared on her lips as she had realized how much her son had changed, how much he'd grown up, now standing in front of her as an incredibly intelligent, strong and brave, _handsome_ man. And he was right. There was no room for her in his life. So she nodded and kindly said: “Of course. I understand. I suppose it was foolish of me to think I could come back into your life like that. And I'm sorry. For all the pain I have caused. For both you and your father.” She sounded painfully much like Elektra like that.

 

_”I'm sorry, Matthew. For all the pain I've caused you along the way”_

_“You know, we're gonna die here.”_

_“No.” She smiled at him. “This is what living feels like.”_

_And they stood, and held on to each other and kissed. And then they died._

 

Matt gave his mother another short look, as if he wanted to say something, but in the end he just nodded. He put on a soft jacket and stiffly walked towards the door. 

“Take care of yourself.”, Maggie added, just before he left. 

The vigilante turned around once more. “Of course.”, he said. 

And then he left, walked down the hall and through a few doors, until he reached the street. Without hesitating or looking back, he made his way to the next train station and left the city.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if I offended anyone with Matt's rant about God.  
> I'll fix it. Sooner or later.
> 
> Please leave comments, they give me the strength to carry this thing on


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another short one and also another late one. Sorry about that. Unfortunately this will carry on like that, because I have (or rather would have) to prepare for my finalys. Also I started working on a book?? Idk how I got here, but I'm really hyped about it, so the Fanfictions may have to wait.  
> Anyway, enjoy and leave some comments.

Land a punch on his kidney, follow with a kick to the face.

Easy.

Of course his whole body hurt with every movement, but Matt wouldn't let this weakness keep him off the streets. Obviously not in New York, but in South Philadelphia. He hadn't had the heart to go further away. 

But he'd had to go somewhere. At least for a bit. He didn't know for how long, or what purpose this even had. Maybe he just needed a break from the city. Or the people in it. Or both.

The only problem was, that it was hard to fight. Mainly because his physical condition had gone to shit, but also because he was _always_ so _tired_. And he had no clue what to do against it. So naturally he ignored it. Just kept going. Hoped he wouldn't break.

He didn't realize that he'd already been broken. Broken by the world.

 

He had gone straight home after that last fight. Although it didn't feel like home. It was a dark, dirty and abandoned warehouse in which he took shelter by day. 

It would be nicer if Foggy was there. Because Foggy meant safety, he meant light and warmth and strength. 

Foggy meant home. 

But of course Matt couldn't go back. The longer he waited, the angrier his friend would get. But he'd also already procrastinated that decision for over two weeks, since he'd left the orphanage, and he was sure he'd be in trouble anyway. 

So he stayed where he was, going out every night for always longer growing periods of time, patching himself up over and over again, trying to ignore the big lump of unhappiness in his gut. He kept telling himself that others had it worse, that he had no reason to feel like this. That he shouldn't even long for his friends, because he'd only get them hurt. Or hurt them himself for that matter. That it was selfish of him to imagine his return, that it was selfish to wish that he'd be welcomed back with open arms and hugs and _forgiveness_.

He felt more and more stupid with every time he caught himself thinking like that, because this scenario was never going to happen. 

Besides, he didn't even know if he was still compatible with other human beings. Since Midland Circle, he'd grown jumpy and suspicious of basically everything. 

He'd first realized that a few nights ago. There'd been a thunderstorm and Matt had spent the night hidden in a corner, hands pressed to his ears, rocking himself through one panic attack after the other. 

He didn't know if he wasn't gonna lash out if Foggy went in for a high-five, or if he was going to jump back, ready to fight, if Karen went in to hug him. 

He didn't know what he was going to do, didn't know himself any more.

Maybe he never had.

So until he'd worked it out, he'd stay in this city to try and get a hold of his life and to work up the courage to go back to Foggy. 

To go back home. 

 

_”Locals claim, that the Daredevil has relocated from New York, Hell's Kitchen to South Philadelphia, much to the concern of the people of Hell's Kitchen. They say, the vigilante made them feel safer. They also say that, because of some rumours, they thought he died after the events of Midland Circle. We tried to speak to Franklin Nelson, former partner of the law firm Nelson & Murdock, as he was involved-”_

Jessica switched off Trish's TV. After a few seconds of quiet staring, she let out a string of curses. Then she wrote a note to her sister and took the next train out of New York. 

Naturally without a ticket. 

 

It was late when she arrived in Philadelphia, but that wasn't an issue at all. Mainly because she always stayed up until like 2am and therefore 11pm wasn't a worrying time for her, but also because she could find the vigilante easier at night.

So what she did, was, she walked down a dark street, grabbed the next best girl and pulled her into an even darker alley.

“If you wanna live, you make some noise.”, Jessica growled into her ear, while pressing her against a wall by her throat.

The girl seemed rather determined to not die, so she let out an incredibly high-pitched scream. The PI hissed at the uncomfortable sound and let her victim run. She'd gotten what she'd wanted.

If Daredevil was really in this city, he'd show up. If it wasn't Matt but a copy-cat, he wouldn't have heard the scream in the first place. If it _was_ Matt, and he wasn't dead, he'd come running.

Jessica didn't have to wait very long – he must have been close – until a shadow fell from presumably a fire-escape and landed in the small alley with a quiet thud. 

But instead of attacking, he just stood there, slightly hunched over, lurking in the dark. Like a wounded animal, afraid of what would happen if he'd move, but also very much ready to fight the threat. 

“You're not dead, then.”, Jessica eventually huffed. She would have recognized that ass anywhere. Though what she didn't expect was the gigantic step back he took when she tried to approach him. She raised her hands in defence. “Easy. I'm not gonna kick your ass. Promise.”

“What are you doing here?”, he asked without any kind of indication whether he believed her or not. He probably didn't. 

She huffed again and vaguely gestured at him. “Taking you home.” 

A short pause. “Why?”

“Because the others were too slow to get here before me.” She actually hadn't even thought about telling any of them what she suspected or what she was going to do. But when did she ever?

He nodded slightly. He'd probably suspected that or something similar. But knowing Matt, he had probably thought nobody would connect Daredevil's disappearing from Hell's Kitchen and then reappearing in Philadelphia. 

Well, he'd been wrong. 

Finally he let out a heavy sigh and tilted his head to the side. “The police are on their way. We should go.”

“Where?”

He seemed to be debating inside of his head for a good few seconds. Then he lifted his head a little, so that his half-covered face was lightened by the moon. There was a careful smile on his lips when he said: “Home.”

 

Jessica would have liked to say that she wasn't suspicious at how fast and easy Matt had agreed to come back to Hell's Kitchen. 

Except that she was. 

Because Matt always put up a fight. He'd always say things like 'I can't, I'll put somebody in danger' and insist on staying away. 

Therefore something had to be very wrong, for him to be this compliant. 

For once in her life she wished she wasn't right.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I finally wrote this chapter, not sure how long the next will take. I reckon not too long, though, because right now I'm really fucking pissed off by my parents, so, you know, writing out of frustration and stuff tends to work pretty well for me. 
> 
> Anyway, have fun with reading this and please leave a comment or something.

Matt's reunion with the others went about as well as you'd imagine. 

Jess called everyone about ten minutes before they arrived at Matt's slightly dusty apartment. Nobody had had the heart to sell it, but they couldn't bring themselves to live in it, either.

When they entered the living room, all six of them were there: Danny was sitting on the couch, next to Colleen, crushing each other's hands, Claire was sitting in a chair, Luke standing behind her and calmingly put his hands on her shoulders.

Foggy and Karen were both standing at the window, anxiously waiting for Jess and wondering what was so important to summon them all. 

Because of course she hadn't told them.

So now they all looked up when they heard the doorknob turn. First there were Jessica's footsteps. They all recognized them immediately; fast and straight forward, maybe even a little heavy and dragging.

And then there were the other footsteps. Quiet and slow and careful. Tentative. 

The PI went far enough to be seen by the others, who all more or less looked somewhere between excited and confused, then she looked back and made a small movement, half wave, half nod.

And then Matt appeared, head ducked, shoulders hunched forward, hands hanging loosely by his sides, unsure of what to do with them.

There was absolute silence for roughly five minutes. Nobody so much as moved, all frozen in shock.

Until suddenly the reactions came all at once. Claire stood up from her chair, ready to slap her friend, hard, Luke – calm as ever – simply took a step back and raised his eyebrows slightly curiously, a hint of reproachful. Danny let out a raspy 'Matt' and went to approach him, but Colleen held him back by his wrist, now standing up as well.

As for Karen, she was gripping Foggy's arm like her life depended on it and whispered something along the lines of 'What's happening?', but Foggy was too shocked to even form words right away, so he settled with some gaping. 

Matt could feel all the shocked looks on his body, heard all of their hearts beating faster than normally, heard their breaths hitch and their muscles clench in tension.

And it made him extremely uncomfortable. Like … hella. And he knew they'd be angry and wanted, no, _needed_ answers. But he couldn't give them those. Not yet, anyway. So he couldn't just say 'Hi', because that wasn't enough. He'd hurt them, had abandoned them. He'd let them think he was dead. 

So, he started right off with a quiet and nearly shy “I'm sorry.” It came out quiet and shameful and scared.

Which apparently was still the wrong approach, because now Foggy let out an irritated gasp, stomped to the vigilante and stopped just in front of him, Karen right behind him. The lawyer couldn't help himself and pulled his not-so-dead-friend into a bone-crushing hug. Though only shortly, then he took a step back and gave Karen's hand a gentle squeeze. 

“I want everybody out!”, Foggy calmly said, without taking his eyes off Matt, who did his best to neither flinch nor cry, but succeeded only partly. “You can come back later or something. We'll call.”

The others exchanged partly confused, partly worried looks, but nobody said anything, not even Danny, who patted Matt on the shoulder, and left the flat. They seemed to understand that the three of them needed some time for themselves. To talk about things. And they had a right to, they'd known each other for a long time.

Foggy waited a few minutes. Then he asked: “Are they gone?”

Matt nodded tentatively. He sort of wished they'd stayed. Because now he had to face Foggy's disappointment, which would pop the bubble of his fantasy to be welcomed back with warmth and joy and he wasn't sure if he was ready for that yet. 

Perhaps Foggy had senses the tension in his friend, or maybe he noticed how he was clenching his fists, because he now somewhat gently led him to the couch and sat him down next to him. 

“So you're alive.”, he finally said. Matt nodded slightly. “Not dead. And you didn't … didn't think about letting us know? About coming back?” His voice had gone flat and a little shaky, as if he was trying not to sound offended, as if he was trying not to cry. He waited for an answer, but nothing came. He was about to add something, but Karen was faster. 

“We heard about you. In the news, you know. We all did. But nobody had the courage to go and find out if it was you, or just a copy-cat.” She paused for a second and stepped closer, before she was standing in front of him. “We had hope. We hoped it was you. But nobody was ready to lose you for a second time!”

“I …” There were so many things Matt wanted to say, things he wanted to tell them, explain to them why he had done what he'd done. But there were no words in him left, he was drained and tired and all he wanted to do was snuggle up next to Foggy, to be close to him and Karen, to find their forgiveness. 

All he wanted was for them to forgive him.

So instead of taking his thoughts and explanations into his mouth and _talking_ to them, he settled with another weak “I'm sorry.”

Foggy frowned and exchanged a worried look with Karen. It wasn't like their friend to be this … quiet. And small. Usually he'd construct beautiful arguments, as to why he'd stayed away. Usually he'd stand and look like he was the one in charge, so very much powerful. Usually, he'd be so very much alive.

It was as if a part of him had stayed underneath that building. 

And Foggy, brilliant, beautiful, caring Foggy noticed. He knew Matt so damn well, sometimes even better than Matt himself, he understood what was going on inside his best friend's head. Or at least he could empathize with him.

And he knew how to handle this situation.

“You look tired. Do you want to lay down?” Karen shot him a questioning look, but Foggy only replied with a slightly worried frown. 

And, to everybody's surprise, Matt nodded. He looked almost guilty for admitting this _weakness_ , his eyebrows drawn together, lips tight, eyes focussed somewhere on the floor.

“Okay. You wanna go to your bed, or do you want to stay here?”

The vigilante seemed a little confused by Foggy's change of tactics, but croaked hoarsely “Stay here.” However, he didn't make any attempt to lay down or anything, so the blond gently grabbed him by his shoulders and pulled him down, until Matt was resting with his head on Foggy's thigh, knees pulled up, arms protectively cradled around his torso. 

For a few minutes nobody said a word. 

Then Karen joined the two men, sitting down at Matt's feet, hand calmingly on his shins. 

After another few moments of silence, Foggy softly asked: “Why didn't you come back?” To show that he wasn't actually angry anymore, he started running his hand through Matt's hair, who followed the motion and pressed his head against the hand, like a touch starved kitten. Which came way too close to reality.

“Because I wasn't ready.”, he eventually answered, voice dangerously close to a whisper. 

“How do you mean?”

“I was scared.”, he mumbled. But before Foggy was able to ask what he'd been scared of, Matt had already drifted off into sleep, softly snoring, his whole body relaxed for once, except maybe for the slight shaking of his right hand, which now lay on the couch instead of resting on his hip.

“I'm glad you're home.”, Foggy quietly said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Seriously, leave comments, I'm living off of them.


	6. Chapter 6

Matt woke with a groan and wiped over his eyes with one hand. Then he carefully sat up, so he wouldn't wake up either Foggy, who had fallen asleep with his head laying back, or Karen, who still had a hold of his legs. 

Unfortunately his sneaking did nothing to accomplish what he'd hoped for. 

“You awake already?”, Foggy mumbled and sat up, a tiny groan escaping him. Karen stifled a yawn next to him “It's still dark.”

“Well I wouldn't know.” Matt gave him a smile.

Foggy tried to return it, but tears started flowing instead. And Matt didn't know what to do. He wanted to hug his friend, to provide comfort and make him feel better, make him stop crying. But he knew he was the reason for those tears. And he didn't know if he was even allowed to provide the comfort as he'd like to. Didn't know if that wasn't gonna make it worse.

He shouldn't have returned. 

He should have stayed away, shouldn't have let Jessica make him think it was a good idea to come back.

“I'm sorry.”, the blond suddenly interrupted Matt's train of thoughts and sniffled. “It's just that … we all thought you were dead! We griefed. And now you're back and breathing and alive and I'm just really glad you are here.”

“Me, too.” Lie. For now, anyway. With time, he'd probably be glad, too, but at the moment he just felt insecure and uncomfortable and on edge. “And … I'm really sorry that I stayed away for so long. I could've come back earlier, but I just … couldn't.”

“You said you were scared.” Karen inched slightly closer, as not to frighten her friend. “What could you possibly be scared of? You are the man without fear.”

Matt gave her a crooked smirk. “I was … I still am. Scared. Of hurting you.” “The only thing that hurt us was your death.”, Foggy interrupted, but Matt cut him off immediately: “Not like that. I meant hurting you as in hurting you physically.”

“What, like punching?”

He nodded. “I … developed some rather unfortunate reflexes.”

“And that's why you wouldn't come back?”

“Yes.”, he quietly confessed.

“That's bullshit!”, Karen huffed.

“It's not!”, the vigilante snarled. “It's really not!” He forced his voice back to a more quiet volume. “I was buried under tons of stones and steel and although I don't remember a lot of it, it was enough for a lifetime! I lost the love of my life! I have nightmares! I don't eat right! I'm angry, and sad and _scared_ , because I don't know what I will do if somebody wakes me from one of these nightmares and I'm confused! I just don't know what will happen. And I'm sorry, I really am. I'm trying to control it, for you and for Karen and for the others.” He ran a hand over his face to wipe away the tears. “But it's not working.”

For a few moments Foggy didn't answer. Then he asked: “But tonight you slept right next to us. Nothing happened. You were alright. Weren't you?”

Matt shook his head. “I just can't trust myself. What if next time doesn't work out this well?”

Nearly two minutes passed until Foggy spoke up again. “I don't care. Because I trust you.” He leaned closer now and held the other man firmly by his shoulders. “We'll get you a therapist and with time you'll be okay! And none of us is going to leave you. Don't you think that; not for a single second! Okay?”

The vigilante gave him a weak smile from underneath the veil of tears. “Okay.”

 

Danny, Colleen, Claire, Luke and Jessica were all sitting either on Matt's couch or on several chairs, while Matt was doing his best not to look too much like a terrified puppy.

He didn't exactly succeed with that plan, but the trial counted, too. “So, uh, I guess I need to explain myself.”, he eventually said with the nervous flash of a smile.

“Yeah, you do.”, Claire replied. “You really do.”

“We thought you were dead!”, Danny interrupted. He jumped to his feet and started pacing around, walking from one side of the room to the other. “You let us believe you were dead!”

“Yes. And I'm sorry.” He lowered his head in shame. Then he looked up again. “It's just that … this whole incident fucked me up pretty bad. And … I was scared. Of coming back.”

“Why?”, Colleen demanded. 

“Because I can't trust myself any more. And I was – and I still am scared that I could hurt you. Physically.”

There was silence after that.

“Well, I guess I'll do the dirty work then.”, Luke suddenly said. “You know, waking you up when it gets too bad and all that stuff.”

Matt shot him a surprised look. “Seriously?”

“Sure.”

Such a simple word with such calm voice and yet such powerful meaning behind it. This simple word lifted a heavy weight of worries off Matt's chest, of which he hadn't even known it'd been there. 

“And I'll kick your ass when you're being an idiot again.”, Jessica added. “Or try to steal my scarf.”

The lawyer smiled fondly at her. Then, when Danny joined in with “I'll teach you how to summon your Chi.”, he let out an ugly snort.

“Thanks, guys. Really. That means a lot to me.”

“Now don't get cheesy on us.”, the PI huffed, but Matt could hear the smile in her voice. “So, are we gonna grab some food now, or what?”, she asked after a few moments of silence. 

 

Later that day, shortly before midnight, Matt was laying in bed and thought about all the conversations he'd had in the past one and a half days. And he now knew that all his fears about coming back had been utterly and completely irrational. Of course there was always the possibility of panic attacks or bad nights, but now he knew that his friends would be there for him, would care for him, would help him cope.

Because, he suddenly realized, that's what friends were for. Friendship worked both ways, even if sometimes one of the participants didn't know that. That participant turned to be mostly Matt, though.

But for the first time in over a year, Matt felt at peace. Truly at peace. Even Elektra's death wasn't stabbing his heart in a way it was beyond all bearing any more. Instead it had turned into a warm, pulling feeling, easily confused with longing, but this feeling was so much sadder, so much lonelier.

This feeling was love. 

Though it was okay. It just meant he was healing. 

Matt was about to fall asleep, when suddenly there was the slightest of all creaks on the stairs leading down from the roof. Within seconds he was up and sneaking towards the sound of a slightly excited sounding heartbeat. 

An icy feeling shot into his legs, while a hot aching pulled at his heart without warning. 

He knew that heartbeat. He knew that sweet and smokey smell. He'd know it anywhere, no matter how many people there were. 

He even knew the way her steps made the air circulate around her. 

Elektra stepped out of the shadows with a smile on her lips. “Hello Matthew.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I guess that's it. Thanks for sticking with me until the end, I know it took a while at times.   
> Leave me a comment if you liked it, always makes my day.


End file.
